


LMYS Drabble Series

by Tomocchi



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 04:44:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1374334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomocchi/pseuds/Tomocchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He lets himself indulge in the warmth and comfort of the strong arms, burying his head into Aomine's chest and soft cotton tee. And it smells like home." Aomine and Kise. Twenty-four years old. A little apartment. Their daily lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Smells Like Home

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hello guys! So this is the first of my drabble series! I hope you guys enjoy the glimpses into Aomine and Kise's domestic life! You don't have to read the [parent story](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1374313) to understand these. Oh, and the drabbles are not really in any particular order. Kudos and comments are always greatly appreciated :)

They've been living together for almost two months now. A quaint little place Kise had found one Sunday morning. It situates between their workplaces, not exactly right smack in the middle, since Aomine has to travel a bit farther than the blond, but he doesn't mind. Getting up early is a bearable feat if he can spend the mornings waking up to Kise's sleeping face.

This morning as well, his arm searches for the other's waist with the intention of snuggling against the blond. Just for a few more minutes, he thinks, convincing himself that it doesn't take that long to brush his teeth and to throw on his uniform. His palm is outstretched, fingers splaying as they roam and grab, searching for warmth. But, again and again, he grasps the thin air. Cool and devoid of heat.

A momentary panic surges over the tanned man, for he is not quite sure if he is awake or still dreaming. Dreaming a terrible nightmare in which he chases and pursues, only for the figure to taunt him, never within reach. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, opening them when he regains his composure. The room is still dark with the clock indicating that it's 5AM.

He rolls out of bed, slowly with a lack of purpose, and trudges to the bathroom.

\---------

Aomine learned too late what Kise's modeling job entails. It's just something that never really occurs to him until the blond announced it the first time (at the worse time) that he will be away for a few days. Needless to say, Kise won't be wearing that curry-covered shirt for a while, if ever.

He has gotten used to the fact that Kise needs to leave whenever the his job calls for it. No big deal. Aomine still feels terribly lonely, but it's nothing he can't handle. However, this time… this is Kise's first extended trip since they've been living together, and there's no way he's fine with that. His heart tugs at the emptiness.

"A week will pass by in no time," Kise had said. "You'll see." The blond left a soft peck on his forehead as reassurance, and the softness of his lips still lingers.

Whenever Kise leaves, he takes with him all the love and warmth, a selfish act the blond is unaware of. The apartment is wrenched dry of colors, reduced to emptiness and hollows, and all Aomine can see is the dull shades of browns and grays. He admits, whenever Kise is not around, their place never really feels like home.

Damnit! How long is a week anyway? It's more of a complaint than an actual question really.

Aomine knows exactly how long one week is, despite being awful with numbers.

168 hours.

10, 080 minutes.

604,800 seconds.

All of which he will have to spend without Kise.

He feels a bit silly. It's not like they are teenagers anymore, where the amount of time they spend together dictates how much love he has to offer. Moreover, a week is nothing compared to the five years they've spent apart.

But he had quickly forgotten how to get through a day without seeing that grin, that smile which rivals the sun.

Aomine buries his head in the palms of his hands.

Kise, please come back soon.

\---------

"You know, Aomine." Kagami starts, dribbling the ball in a steady rhythm. "Maybe you should take up a hobby."

The tanned man scoffs, stealing the ball from the redhead with ease. "Kagami," he says. The basket swishes despite his lack of effort. "Basketball is my hobby!"

"I know, but I'm not free to play basketball with you all the time." Aomine cocks his eyebrow, not seeing where this conversation is going.

"What will you do for the remainder of the time when Kise's away?"

A twinge of pain pierces his chest.

That's right, it has only been three days.

Aomine has done a pretty good job of keeping himself busy, playing basketball all day, sleeping in for the remaining hours. But honestly, he doesn't know how long he can keep this up. He misses the blond terribly and being in their quiet apartment just reminds him that Kise is not around.

"So what are you suggesting?"

"Cooking is not a bad choice."

\---------

"DAMN IT AOMINE! THAT'S THE FIFTH TIME YOU ALMOST BURN MY KITCHEN DOWN!" Kagami scolds him, the coloration on his face resembles those of the flames which threatened to swallow them both alive a minute ago.

"But I didn't," Aomine murmurs, a hint of guilt spreads across his face.

He shakes his head in resignation. Honestly, Aomine is the most difficult student he had ever taught. Most people would catch on the first time that leaving the stove unattended is always a bad idea.

Still, he admires his efforts and dedication - especially for someone like Aomine, who isn't exactly passionate in anything other than Kise and basketball. "Let's have a taste of your concoction," the redhead motions for the other to hand him the bowl of soup.

Aomine eyes him nervously. He triple-checked the ingredients list and taste-tested the soup countless of times so it should at least be edible (How he managed to almost set the kitchen on fire though is another story).

"Oh my god," a shocked murmur escapes Kagami's lips.

"WHAT? DAMN IT! DID I PUT TOO MUCH SALT?!" Aomine panics, a rare sight to see from the usually calm man.

"No," Kagami says, still bewildered. "It tastes good."

The statement surprises them both and the redhead adds, "Kise would be very happy."

"Sh- Shut up!" He blushes.

Another rare sight to see.

\---------

When he steps through the door, Kise is greeted with a burst of aroma, one he couldn't quite put his finger on. But it dances and flirts, eliciting a satisfied hum from the pink lips. He glances at the couch as a force of habit, half-expecting Aomine to lounge lazily as he whisper a sultry greeting, promising a special welcome-home present for him.

Kise chuckles at the thought and is not surprised to find the couch empty. His plane did arrive an hour early anyway. With that thought, the blond tiptoes to the kitchen.

He halts at mid-step, taken aback by the sight of the taller man's back, muscles taut and visible through the black tee. It's enticing, alluring, and Kise drinks it all in. The images of Aomine. His broad shoulders. The nape of his neck, where short strands of midnight blue meet rich, dark skin. The way the fabric contours and hugs, mapping out the rises and falls of his muscles as the other moves and stretches.

Kise quietly pulls out a chair from the kitchen table, searching with his hands until he feels the wooden seat to place himself on top. His gaze never leaves Aomine, marveling at the way he moves with grace and practice.

The blond rests his chin on a palm, arm anchored by elbow, and closes his eyes, now taking in all the imagery through sounds and smells alone. The bubbling of the pot. Their quiet breathing. The smell of soup, perhaps, tinted with the scent of sweet onion and-

The click of a bowl startles his lids open.

Suddenly, Kise is faced with a pair of eyes piercing straight through him, leaving him lost in the vastness of midnight blue. Thankfully, the steam from the bowl blurs his vision and breaks the entrancement.

"Aominecchi… made me soup?" His face lingers between astonishment and delight.

Kise scoops a spoonful and brings it to his mouth, only to recoil as he sends a dubious look to the other. "It is edible right?"

A tanned hand pinches his nose teasingly. "Just eat it."

"Wait," he says with a nasally voice. "Did you know I was sitting here the whole time?"

The taller man's eyes narrow. "You weren't exactly quiet." And before the blond could retort, he adds. "Plus, I can smell your scent the moment you walked in"

"Yea?" Kise tilts his head, delicate fingers prying away the grip the tanned digits have on his nose, scrunching and wiggling it as if that would speed up the process. Then he speaks normally, in a quizzical tone. "What do I smell like?"

The sudden proximity of Aomine's face sends a tickling blush to his own. The other's nose softly grazes against his cheek as he sniffs for confirmation. "Cinnamon."

Aomine moves in slowly, allowing the heat to radiate and spread across their lips and faces, from closeness instead of actual contact. He lingers and lets their mouths brush against each other, savoring the plump and softness of Kise's lips, before taking in and capturing them full and whole. They kiss with a yearning and soft moans quickly fill the room.

Kise smiles against the other's lips. "I'm back."

"Yea." Aomine kisses the bridge of his nose before he envelopes and covers the blond, embracing him tightly. "And I've missed you terribly."

He lets himself indulge in the warmth and comfort of the strong arms, burying his head into Aomine's chest and soft cotton tee.

And it smells like home.

"Me too."


	2. Sunday Mornings

If there were a way to capture time, wrap it up for safekeeping, Kise would do so. He would put them in his pocket, pull them out on rainy days to remind himself that such moments do exist. That a man named Aomine Daiki and the time they spend together exist. For his every touch and whisper, his every caress and promise, always seem so... unreal.

Kise is in complete and total bliss, finally understanding what it means to breathe without air. To laugh for no reason. To drown in his own love and adoration for the other.

And Kise thinks, if he could frame any moment, anything point in time at all, it would be these Sunday mornings.  
\----------

He crawls out of the bed, careful not to stir the other.

It's the one day of the week where Kise gets up before Aomine, who is now splayed across the bed, unguarded and rid of his usual scowl. On most days, the tanned man is long gone by the time Kise has managed to drag himself out of bed. He rolls onto the surface where the other had previously laid, the other half of the bed cool and devoid of heat. And at times like these, he wishes that their apartment were a little closer to where Aomine is. So they can spend more time wrapped in each other's warmth. So they can shave together, Aomine forcing a giggle out of him, stroking his foam beard while wearing a proud expression. So they can mix up each other's clothes, realizing too late when Aomine had already finished up most of the buttons. So they can-

And there are too many reasons to list.

But Kise doesn't complain. There are some perks to Aomine waking up earlier, like how delightfully surprised he can be every time he spots a light breakfast on the kitchen table, adorned with the sticky note that Aomine had scribbled with love and an occasional rushed doodle. He appreciates the effort so, in return, Kise always wake up a tad earlier on Sundays, letting Aomine sleep in and enjoy his day off while he fixes breakfast.

It doesn't take long before tanned arms caress his slender waist, and Kise welcomes the warmth that touches and spreads across his back. The other rests a chin on his shoulder as he mumbles "good morning", woken up by the smell of freshly baked croissants and fried eggs. He presses a soft kiss against Kise's back before leaving to boil a pot of water, making them both a cup of tea. The blond had insisted that they should take a break from their usual source of caffeine, switch it witch it up a bit, and Aomine doesn't mind. It's not like he needs that much energy today anyway.

up a bit, and Aomine doesn't mind. It's not like he needs that much energy today anyway.

And along the way, Kise hums a tune, plating the table in accordance to the melody. Aomine smiles and he couldn't help joining in on the parts that he knows.

After breakfast, they move to the couch, Kise laying his head on Aomine's lap. The other read up on basketball while he catches up on his modeling magazine. The taller man ruffles and plays with his golden locks, massaging his scalp while he sighs appreciatively, enjoying the attention.

_What could be better than this?_  
\----------

He finishes before Aomine today. Placing the magazine on the coffee table and opting to close his eyes, enjoying the way the taller man's presence and warmth wrap around him. And he hums, deep in thoughts and in love. His lids open when he recognizes the familiar lyrics.

"These are a few of my favorite things," Aomine finishes the melody. Their eyes meet and the other sends him a childish grin.

"Your singing has gotten better," Kise smiles warmly. "Speaking of favorites, Aominecchi..."

"Hmm?" Midnight blue eyes are still on the blond, mentally tracing the outline of his lips and Cupid's bow.

"What are some of your favorite things about me?"

Kise's question is subtle, yet the implication rings loudly, ripping through the silence. Out of the all the people in the world, the stars in the sky, why would you reach for me?

"What's with the sudden curiosity Kise?" Aomine chuckles at the sudden question, albeit a bit surprised. Kise certainly is not the type to be insecure about these kinds of things.

"It's not like I had any chance to ask you this." The blond quickly explains himself. His head is lowered, but Aomine still catches the glances thrown his way every time the blond looks up, face flushing a beautiful pink.

Then, he remembers why they never really discuss about this. They've been too busy spending every free minute having the make-up sex they've been missing out on and goddamnit the guilt trip card and puppy-dog eyes still work on him.

"So…" Kise, growing with impatience and embarrassment, presses on. "What do you like about me?"

"About you?" The other spreads a look of contemplation, brows furrow as he searches – no – racks his brain for an acceptable answer. And after it seems like he had put enough thought on the matter, Aomine says, "you got a pretty nice ass."

"So you were only after my looks?!"

"Well, you have to admit that you got a damn sexy body" He lifts up Kise's shirt, revealing sculpted muscles and milky white skin. His dark blue eyes ghost over the perfectly defined curves, marveling hungrily at the dips and hollows following Kise's lower abdomen, and he could almost see the blond curls-

"Goddamn Kise, I could just fuck you right now."  
\----------

After five minutes of the silent treatment, Aomine realizes that he should probably watch what he say more often. Kise is stubbornly avoiding his gaze, his ears beet red, whether from anger or not he's not quite sure.

"Hey don't pout," Aomine coaxes. "Those lines are going to become permanent you know."

Still no answer. It surprises him how they both can act with such childish intents in each other's presence.

"I like the way you puff your cheeks when you're angry." His tanned hands squish and pinch the pale cheek.

"Watch it!" The blond whines, tears threaten to form near the corner of his eyes. "This face puts the food on the table you know!" And Aomine laughs. Once the silence is broken, he knows that Kise is not really mad anymore.

"You act like I don't carry my own weight around here." He retorts playfully. "In fact," he picks up the blond with ease and cradles him in his lap. "I can even carry yours."

A scarlet red crawls its way to his cheeks, and this time Aomine knows for a fact that it is not from anger.

"I adore this too." Tanned finger taps to indicate his meaning. "The way your nose wrinkles whenever something delights you."

Just like now, he thinks.

"And even with your eyes closed, I can still see the way they shine." Then he kisses the corner of Kise's lid, continuing to place a trail of kisses down the other's jawline.

Aomine stops and nuzzles against the pale neck. "I love how you always manage to smell like fucking cinnamon." His mouth nips gently between the words, as if he is afraid that all of his confessions will flow out all at once.

"Like someone had just dumped a freshly ground batch on you." Kise grunts at the statement, but his discontent is quickly replaced with a groan of pleasure.

"But it really suits you, you know." Aomine cleverly adds. "Spicy and sweet."

He laces their fingers together, intertwining and locking their clasped hands. "And the way you fit perfectly," he starts, grinning at the occupied spaces between the contrasting digits, "filling up any gaps that make me incomplete."

Gently and slowly, Aomine moves and cups the rosy cheeks into his free hand, eyes gazing lovingly at the blond. "How you're so stubborn and won't take no for an answer. Your determination. Your hard working habit" He stops to give Kise a chaste kiss, nibbling on his lower lip before parting.

"And you're a really good kisser." Kise laughs, eyes closed, face brimming with happiness. The way that makes Aomine unconsciously curve the corner of his mouth to join in the merriment.

"What about me Kise?"  
\----------

"Well, for starter," Kise mimics the other's tone from earlier, his voice teetering between teasing and sultry. "Your body is just my type."

The blond winks, and now it's Aomine's turn to be rendered speechless as Kise explores and lines the perfectly cut and well-defined muscles with his hands. His fingers roam without any sense of direction against the tanned skin, and the taller man is helpless against the blond's touches.

But he wills himself and manages to spit out in a low grumble. "So you're only after my dick?"

The statement sends the previously bold blond into a halt, reducing him to a blushing mess. "S- Shut up! I take that back!" Kise retreats to the opposite side of the couch, his arms now crossed and tucked away from view.

"Are you sure?" Aomine chuckles as he edges towards Kise, causing the blond to push his back farther against the couch. The taller man smiles. His eyes are glossed with desire. Lust. Hunger.

"Should I remind you why it's your favorite?"

Kise can feel the other's erection pressing hard against his own and he whimpers when Aomine grinds his hips. The cloth covering his groin grazes against his throbbing member and the mind numbing sensation is intensified by Aomine's slow and harsh repetitions.

Fuck! Kise allows a moan to escape his lips, causing Aomine to smirk approvingly before he dives into warm cavern, swallowing the series of moans that spill out of the blond's mouth.

And Kise is suddenly reminded why Sunday mornings are his favorite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that Kise and Aomine hummed is called [My Favorite Things](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2BqRoCwkH0M).


End file.
